Monday, July 31, 2006

Dan Morgan Is a Pantywaist

Carolina Panthers linebacker Dan Morgan is a true warrior. He's reporting to camp bigger and stronger than ever, and he's eager to put his history of injuries behind him. He is as tough as a man gets, an inspiration to all of us Miller High Life-drinking meatheads who have gun oil and grease in the cracks of our calloused hands. That's why he got himself a hyperbaric chamber.


The Charlotte Observer reports:

Morgan has less space in his Wofford College dorm room than ever. Instead of rooming with Will Witherspoon, he's sharing space with a portable hyperbaric chamber... With best friend Witherspoon signing as a free agent with the St. Louis Rams, Morgan finally took advantage of his right as a veteran to have room for himself. He has come to rely on the chamber as much as he did on Witherspoon, who spent the past four years lining up next to him.

Yes, who needs an All-Pro linebacker next to you when you've got Tupperware for humans? Oh, but it gets better:

Morgan said he decided to try the chamber... after conversations with agent Drew Rosenhaus. Wide receiver Terrell Owens, another Rosenhaus client, brought attention to hyperbaric chambers when he used one to during his recovery from a broken ankle two seasons ago.

Yep. Well, if there's a lesson to be learned here, it's that you should always take Drew Rosenhaus's advice if you want to look like a douchebag.

Morgan went on to say that he loved the way the hyperbaric chamber sped his recovery time from the bumps and bruises of training camp, and how it works so much better than the anti-aging cream he'd been using before, claiming that he hasn't looked or felt this young since his first manicure.

He also added that the only downside of the chamber -- other than being associated with Drew Rosenhaus and T.O., looking like a total douche, and replacing his best friend with an oxygen tent -- is that in the mornings he has no way of telling if he's lost his inner monologue.

YOU like Bootsy Collins? I like Bootsy Collins!

It's Monday morning, and I've already eaten a 7 x 7 pan of Skyline Chili 3-way. It's a Cincinnati specialty, even a delicacy. But in no way is it breakfast. To the non-initiated, it is so named not for it's hot girl-on-guy-on-girl action, but for it's three ingredients: chili, spaghetti, cheese. Three-way. Oh yeah, and I'm still hungry.

Another Cincinnati treasure that some of you may not know is legendary funker Bootsy Collins. While referring to Bootsy as "the Joe Jurevicius of funk" may be accurate and condescending at the same time, Collins is renowned for his eccentric dress as well as being a black man one can safely refer to as "Bootsy."

Here is Bootsy working it with some of the Bengals in Paul Brown Stadium in a rendition of "Fear Da Tiger." Or something (Skyline 3-way not pictured).




Okay, so this is not a great clip. But, hey, we're allowed to get it wrong once in a while...aren't we?

Saturday, July 29, 2006

Next Up On KSK: Dead Baby Jokes!

When it comes to comedy, I am a man of incredibly low standards with an almost religious zeal for tastelessness. But even I have my limits, and here they are:

Fair Game:
-Everyone not named Mary Beth King

Not Fair Game:
-Mary Beth King

Violate the second rule and you find out very quickly what it feels like to be Carl Monday for a day. My friends, that is a deep, dark place I do not wish to visit again any time soon. Oh, and no making fun of Dorothy Mantooth, either. So the Peter King posts come down. Here, in their place, is the lovely Miss Heidi of the Sea Gals, who can interrupt any goddamn Raiders game she pleases. Thanks to swing4 for the good advice.


But stay tuned next week. We have some absolutely killer 9/11 victim jokes ready to go!

NOTE: As you well know, this is a fairly amateurish blog. You publish a regrettable post and you do your best to rectify it. If that makes us shameless hypocrites and spineless pussies, eh, I can live with that. Anyway, whichever severely pissed-off commenter does the best Gordon Ramsay impression below gets their own post next week.

UPDATE: Captain Caveman has an unfunny and only slightly repentant post at Karmic Payback, a title of dark foreshadowing if ever there was one.

Thursday, July 27, 2006

Hallelujah! Training Camp Has Arrived!

Ah, NFL training camp. That time of the year when football fans of all 31 pro teams and the Texans wear their brightest hopes with pride. The time of the year when sportswriters write brightly about fans having hope (they also write insanely about the Lions having a chance or Joey Harrington winning the starting job). The time of the year when football players die from heat stroke.

At last.

So... yeah, if you're reading an NFL blog in July, you probably already know that training camps opened this week. Let me say that again in the correct manner: MOTHAFUCKAS, TRAINING CAMP IS HERE!!! YEEEAGH! It's time for you bitches to get excited already.

This isn't just another football season; this is the first-ever football season covered by Kissing Suzy Kolber, which makes it pretty much the most important season ever. But we can't do it without you, our loyal, fervent, gorgeous readers (when Drew called you all "mongoloids" he was totally kidding, I swear). We need your ideas, we need your tips, we need your videos and photos. OF NFL-RELATED THINGS, I might add. (Yes, Lindsay Lohan, I'm talking to you. Stop sending me that filth.)

Is that not specific enough? Do we have to spell things out for you? All right, fine. Here are just some of the things that we're looking to get from readers this season.

- Photographs of NFL players out interacting with their communities. You know, like helping kids to read and rescuing kittens from trees. Some real United Way shit. Wink, wink.

- Compromising information or visual evidence about a certain field hockey-playing Colgate sophomore whose father may or may not write for a prominent sports magazine about coffee, airline travel, "House M.D.," and the proper way to fellate washed-up quarterbacks from Louisiana. I feel pretty fucking dirty for asking for this, but I know some of you out there are on Facebook. Think of yourselves as Dr. Richard Kimble, and pretend Mary Beth King is the one-armed man. You find that man!


- Paul "Dr. Z" Zimmerman's tax return that proves he wrote off $10,000 of red wine. Or maybe a picture of him chasing those damn kids off his lawn.

- Any photo in which John Clayton wears a pocket protector, or is getting harassed by a group of teens, or has a full head of hair.

- Video footage of NFL fans being assholes at tailgates outside the stadium.

- The YouTube link in which Gregg Easterbrook goose-steps around wearing jackboots and a swastika armband. Or at the very least, a Photoshopped cover of The New Republic that reads, "Jews worship money, not God."

What else could we possibly want? Hell, we don't know. We rely on you voyeurs to direct us to the finest ephemera in professional football; you are limited only by your sick imaginations. So go ahead and send us your NFL jetsam -- while you go out for drinks with the Swedish Bikini Team, we'll sit in front of our computers, sifting through the emails in order to post the most lurid material and make inappropriate jokes about it.

Put your ears to the ground, keep your cameras trained on the action, and spread the word, spread the word, spread the word: KSK wants your dirt.

Update: Wow, ask and you shall receive. Commenter B. Michael Payne has come through admirably. We'd like to add, Mike, that we also want a pony.

Peter King: Commissioner For A Day, Aimless Cheesedick Savant Columnist For A Lifetime

Peter King has probably not bombed any foreign embassies lately. At least that we know of. He may not have ever hid beer in a well to lure children into it. He probably has more post-coital know-how than to wipe the excess semen off his wife or other partner, instead of simply handing over a towel or sweaty t-shirt, and then walking rubber-leggedly into the kitchen for some juice.

No, the reason Peter King is pissing us off is because the NFL's best football writer is spending less time writing about football. Last time I checked, Starbucks didn't own a team, nor does any team have a player named "Katrina." I don't give a fuck what he's been eating. Just tell me if Carson Palmer will be ready to start the season and get out of my life.

Anyway, these are excerpts from King’s recent “Commissioner For A Day” which, inexplicably, has just been sitting on the SI site for about a month, not unlike a dog turd on blacktop, begging to be scooped up and disposed of by someone who understands the need to address something of that sort.

Expand the regular season to 18 games.
Of course, you'd have to pay the players more because they'd be performing for two more games, but that's for another day. I'm only the commissioner for a day, not a mathematician.


Yeah, this sounds like something you might hear from a guy that went to Ohio University and bitches about air travel as if he's the first one to do it (Ever wonder how much legroom Lindburgh had, motherfucker?). No, you don't have to pay the players more because they are working on what we working folk refer to as "salary." That means you earn a flat sum, regardless of the amount of labor you have performed. But, don't worry, Peter, we would never mistake someone that goes to Starbucks like you do as anyone who knows how to add or subtract.

Make long field goals more valuable: Simple: Any field goal 50 yards or further is worth four points...

I think Peter wrote this after watching a CFL game and hit the bong with Ricky Williams. Why do this? So you can tie the game when you’re down by four? To make David Akers more significant? Instead of driving the kicker to Blueberry Hill and jerking him off in our convertible, let me suggest another train of thought:

When your team is down by four points, score a fucking touchdown.

The NFL actually did consider a tiered system of 1, 2, and 3 points for field goals a few years ago. The plan never made it out of committee because the powers that be could not determine that the long kick was more valuable than moving the ball downfield. It’s not. Rewarding the team that has a good kicker and an offense that can’t find the red zone is not worth an extra point for me.

Take NFL Sunday Ticket off the dish and put it on digital cable.

N/A. I don't have either one, so I don't care. Sounds like more bitching, though.

Put more mikes on players and officials, and put the game on a seven-second delay.

Delays are bad because I can’t hear the goddamn players cuss at each other, which may be why neither of my two most favorite football-viewing moments were NFL games. The first was the an old World League game when a Barcelona Dragons linebacker was caught by surprise by a draw and, in an effort to seek help from his fellow defenders, exclaimed, "Aw, shit!" It was live TV, and we heard it. The more recent was the XFL game where quarterback Ryan Clement was used as a Slip-N-Slide by a defensive lineman, and separated his shoulder. You heard the shoulder snap. You could hear him screaming into the turf. Clement was miked up and fucked up in the same game. Top that, helmet-cam.

But I do agree in that the NFL's presentation is very stale, very Republican. Change it up; put one game a year on HBO, no delays, no announcers, just the sounds on the field. And we’ll drown Dan Dierdorf in a bucket at halftime, and then use his flesh to construct the game balls that will be used during the second half of the game. We can use the money saved on announcing to row in Pakistani children to help stitch the balls under the stands. "Sew, very young one. Sew like THE WIND!"

Let players wear the numbers of their choice -- with an asterisk: Allow players to purchase the number they wish for $250,000. One-time fee. That $250,000, which players could write off, would go into a pool to benefit 10 charities to be agreed upon by the players' association and the league. And once a year, the league would cut an equal check to each charity. So imagine a player changes teams, or a draft choice comes on a new team, and he wants to wear an odd number. Reggie Bush with number 5, for instance. Imagine you've got 20 of those guys per year. And new commissioner Roger Goodell appears in the Lower Ninth Ward of New Orleans to hand a check for $500,000 to Habitat for Humanity, which guarantees to build 100 homes in 30 days with the money. Gee, the more I write about this, the more I like it.

Well, I fucking hate it. And I doubt I'm the only one. I see two things very wrong with this. First off, I actually like the NFL's number policy. I do, because if I were to ever fall into a coma, like Mason Storm, I could wake up 10 years later and, watching an NFL game in my hospital room before the Senator’s goons try to kill me, understand that No. 88 is a wide receiver, that No. 99 is a defensive end, and that No. 77 is way too large to be wearing all that white (and after Labor Day. Sigh).

As far as the Katrina stuff...look, this is classic Petey King. He can’t pay attention to non-football shit in real-time, so months go by, and the media hype for some particular popular event peaks, then bottoms out. Then about two months after that, Peter King writes about it. Then he goes down there to try and solve that thing, and cue the outrage and shit and blah-blah. Now he feels that soliciting his readers as The NFL Columnist will be call to action that will summon those previously unwilling to bring assistance to that troubled land. Bullshit.

And a hundred homes in 30 days? Oh, right, you're just commissioner for a day, not a contractor.

Prohibit the moving of the Saints for five years: Make this a "for the good of the game" issue. It's ludicrous to think of kicking a city when it's so down. Now's the time to be a good neighbor and a loyal corporate partner, not greedy.

Wrong. There’s never a bad time to be greedy. This does not help the game. There’s no reason Tom Benson shouldn’t be allowed to do what Georgia Frontiere did, what Bill Bidwell did, what every other owner in this League does: get the best deal for your team. Shit, the only reason the team hadn’t already left was because the city was paying the team to stay. And now the city’s payments are coming up light, so the team must find the city in the local bowling alley, punch the city in the face and, before the city can get up, give it a couple kicks to the ribs. Then as the team walks away, it turns and points at the city, now laying in the fetal position on the lane, and screams, "You better have my money next week! No more extensions!"

And, honestly, will we ever get a better chance to get rid of The Worst Logo In Sports, that ridiculous fleur-de-lis? I'm still waiting for the Saints to announce the signings of Dino Bravo and the Fabulous Rougeau Brothers. Let the San Antonio Banderases begin play in 2007, and shut the fuck up about it.

Put two computer chips in the football, and make the goal line, in essence, capable of sending a signal when the football touches the plane of the goal line: Let's just call this "The Ben Roethlisberger Rule."

Hey, he's just commissioner for a day, not a computer technician. Something about the phrase "computer chips" just screams, "I know nothing about computers." Is Peter still typing up his columns on that old Underwood? Andy Rooney would be proud. Besides, I think there's already a Ben Roethlisberger Rule, and it currently reads something like this:

1. Wear a helmet, shithead.
1a. Grow a goatee. Those never look bad or anything. Especially with a visor.

Still, he's got a point. If we can make that first-down stripe appear on TV, they've gotta be able to do something with this. We need it. This would be the League's best goal-line innovation since getting Lawrence Taylor to stop snorting it.

Make the Super Bowl the best two out of three: Ha! Made you look. Just kidding. I may be commissioner, but I'm not that stupid.

So, really, you only came up with nine changes. Nice job, Reilly, way to phone it in. And the jury may still be out on your last point there.

Look, I understand the excuse that these assholes assemble lists like these "for a good debate," much like a radio host will take the unpopular side of an issue to build his audience on ire and animosity. But, largely, these are not good debates. This is an English paper written on the bus, something hastily thrown together at the last minute, only to have something to turn in. It brings to mind a remark CC made to the other KSKers over email earlier in the week.

"First Scoop Jackson, and now this. Remind me again why we write a blog for free and they get paid."

Wednesday, July 26, 2006

Scoop Jackson - Something Racists and Non-Racists Can Finally Agree On!

When I "played" college football, our team decided the night before a game to go see "Showgirls", because nothing fires you up for a game like a group erection. Anyway, we go to see it, and it's fucking terrible. Horrible. I know a lot of people watch that movie for camp value now, but I'm not down with the whole "Oh, this is so bad it's funny! Let's laugh at our own sense of irony!" thing. This is a fucking awful movie. But what made it transcendentally bad was the rape scene about 3/4 of the way in. I'd like a law against all rape scenes in all movies ever. No good can possibly come of them. Anyway, the rape scene in "Showgirls" elevated it to the upper echelons of true shittiness.

Which, of course, brings us to Scoop Jackson. You might know Scoop Jackson from his columns on ESPN.com. They're the kind of columns that make you think, "Hey, how the fuck did Caller #47 from 'The John Thompson Show' get his own byline?" Scoop is so bad, he practically justifies racism. But his column from earlier this week about Terrell Owens was the nadir. Scoop's rape scene, as it were. Let's go all Fire Joe Morgan over it, shall we? Observe!

There's a voice that lives inside his head. It talks to him. It tells him things. It transforms him, shapes him.

Is it the voice of The American Breed? Because that would be pretty random!

Some say that there's a difference between Terrell Owens and the person we know as T.O. Two different people living inside one ultracut, Adonis-like body. But for those of us who follow him, we know different.

You do?! Oh, thank goodness! Lead on, follower!

We know to decipher Terrell Owens we have to get inside his voice. The voice that drives him when the humble side of him really wants to take over. The voice has become the star, the power broker, the newsmaker, the alter to his enormous ego. A powerful thang, this voice. So powerful there is a belief that he no longer can control it because it now controls him. Even more than Drew Rosenhaus does. On the eve of NFL training camp, with him about to honor his third contract in four years, we can only imagine what that voice inside T.O. must be saying...

Should Garth Algar and I make waves with our hands and go, "Cucolo! Cucolo! Cucolo!" now? Oh no, I see what you're doing! You're trying to win an award with an overused writing gimmick! Hence the italicized preface! Consider me hooked!

THE VOICE
Here we go... been waiting for this for eight months, baby! The hate that hate produced, produced the wrong dude. Lemme get some more crunches in.

Me fail English? That's unpossible!

It's T.O. time, baby! Training camp! I got everything out of the way. All work done. Book's out, did Gumbel, SI tried to put the jinx on me, now all I got to do is go out and watch the people start to hate me all over again. Salvage.

If by "salvage", you mean, "take advantage of the idiots in the press by getting them to write unwarranted redemption stories," then consider that thought 100% accurate, my friend!

Bad press beats no press, that's what Gran'ma said. "As long as they talkin' 'bout you, baby, that means you on they mind."

But watch how I flip this, just like two years ago when they all hated me. By the time the Super Bowl was over, dude, they all loved me. And they was wondering why I kept bumpin' Nas and Puff's song in the offseason.

(singing) "You can hate me now!"

How will Scoop remind readers that, like Terrell, he too is black?! Oh, I know! A reference to a song that was played out six years ago! Word up, Scoopy!

Damn, it's hot here. They told me Texas was going to be hot, but this is crazy. But not as hot as I'm about to make it. Oxnard, Cali, ain't never seen no one like me b'fore. Look at all them tents out there... media, waitin'. I gotta prove all them wrong. Can't make 'em eat they words, but I can make 'em swallow 'em.

Oh, you mean prove that they were wrong when they wrote that Owens destroyed team unity and single-handedly ruined the Eagles season? You know, maybe you're right! Maybe the Eagles didn't go 6-10 last year! How dumb am I for thinking that was their record!

Look at them out there... vultures.

Not a follower like Scoop is! Being a follower is way better!

Just waiting for me to do something, say something. Waiting to misunderstand me all over again. I tried to make Bryant Gumbel understand, that's why I sat down with the dude. But he was all on me. Talking to me like I was one of his kids or something.

Not really. Bryant Gumbel's kids are actually literate.

I shoulda leaned over and Jim Everett'd his butt. Tryin' to make it look like I was in some therapy session. Like he's Dr. Phil. Dude, please. I give him credit, though; he did get me to admit that I was wrong about the Jeff Garcia thing and what I did in Frisco. But he wasn't gonna get me to take the blame or apologize about McNabb. That wasn't gonna happen and never will. I know the real, I know what went down.

Okay, so what did go down? Scoop? Scoop? Investigative journalism, anyone?

And why that Itch don't wanna talk now? Why he decide to get quiet? All during the Super Bowl in Detroit, he had something to say. What he say, what he call it, "black-on-black crime"? And now, he lip-locked. "No comment."

And now I know who wrote all of Jar Jar Binks' dialogue for the "Star Wars" films.

Then when he does talk, he calls my book a "children's book." See. See...

But don't nobody else see what I'm seeing. Where I'm from in Tennessee, that's a punk's move. Something girls do.

You mean insult someone? God, TO would never do something like that!

That's why they ain't never gonna win a ring. Not with him there. I can't wait till October 8th. When they ask me, I'ma say I wish the organization well, but for real, I hope they never win another game. Ever.

Scoop has clearly convinced Page 2 editors that proofreading is a form of racism.

All they had to do is give me what I was worth to them, and none of this would have happened. None of this. I'da still been in that uniform. Ballin'. Woulda won the Bowl. Pittsburgh couldn'ta handled us. Everyone knows that. The Steelers know that.

The Steelers couldn't handle a team quarterbacked by Koy Detmer and Mike McMahon? Makes perfect sense to me.

But instead, the Eagles wanted to prove a point. Not pay me but give Brian Westbrook a $25 million contract extension in the middle of the season the week after he ran for a total of 124 yards in five games. And they wonder why I called them "classless."

But I did go too far with that comment. (laugh)

Scoop's parentheses, not mine. This is the part where the voice Terrell's head laughs! Ha ha ha!

That was straight foul. I knew I was going to pay for that once it came out of my mouth. But what the hell. That's how I was feeling. Drew warned me.

No, I didn't.

But why should I have listened to him? I probably would have played last season if it wasn't for him. Man, that dude... but he did get me my money. This $25 million from Dallas ain't bad.

Except only $10 million of it is guaranteed. That's how NFL contracts work. But hey, that's only been common knowledge for the past decade or so.

It's a start. And like Drew said, "If we win the Bowl, the price goes up. Back to the negotiations." I just gotta make sure he doesn't appear on Jim Rome's show or PTI before he sits down with the Cowboys. He needs to chill with that. Messin' with my money. Costing me almost $20 million.

But I thought he got you your money. Right? Right? I'm fucking lost.

Wait. Where's that girl's number I did that photo shoot last year with in GQ? Stay focused, Terrell. Football, dude, football. On a show-and-prove mission this season. Tryna stay focused, stay right. 'Bout to get married. Felisha, dude. Felisha. But damn, honey from GQ was fine. Need to find that issue. See how I made her look good.

Tryna? Did Scoop learn his blackese from Mark Twain?

Where are my shoes?

Scoop is holding them for you, Terrell. Remember?

More crunches...

People keep thinking this is my last shot. Why? Don't they know?!? Can't no one in the League do what I do. Not Randy, not Chad, not Marvin, not Hines, none of them dudes... and they know it, too.

You mean catch passes and score touchdowns? You're right. That is just poppycock!

I could screw up again -- not saying that I did the first two times, but I'm just saying -- and still get another contract from another team. I know this, and so does every GM in the League.

But I'm not going to test it. Not this year, maybe not the next. Too many of them vultures are waiting for me to do that. I'm not going to give them that satisfaction. Like I said, I'm going to "shut it down. Stop talking."

Why talk when Scoop does such a perfectly awful job on your behalf?

Wait. Mental note: I need to call Jason Rosenhaus, talk to him about the misquote in the book. I hate when people take what I say to make me sound stupid.

Like Scoop does?

Like I ain't read my own book. All I said was that when the word "heroic" was used, it was used in the wrong context. That's all. Now I know I said "misquoted," but that's not what I meant. See, at the time, when I said "my performance in the Super Bowl was nothing short of heroic," the war thing wasn't like it is now... and I'm not trying to go out like the Dixie Chicks... but I was heroic in that game. I don't care what anyone says. The Eagles should have recognized.

Instead, they chose to give TO an enormous signing bonus BEFORE that performance. Stupid foresight!

But it's all good, like Gran'ma said: Everything happens for a reason.

Scoop, why don't you just put Terrell on a shrimping boat with Tom Hanks while you're at it?

God wanted me in Dallas.

No, God wants TO in Southern Lebanon.

Too many years gone by with stars on their helmets but none on the field. I tried to let them know when I stood on the Star in 2000. But they wasn't tryna feel me then. Now, they get it. They better get it. They ain't got no choice. I mean Keyshawn, he's a beast, but c'mon. He ain't me. If he had had half the season that I'm about to have, Terry Glenn's numbers would have doubled and Julius Jones would have played like his brother Thomas did with the Bears last year.

I make this game easy for other players.

Except when you're calling them out to the media and generally acting like a selfish prick.

That's why my teammates love me. That's why none of them ran to Donovan's side when everything was going down. I only played seven games last year, but I still led the League in yards per game -- by 9 yards per!

Even though I only played seven games, people! If I played 16, that would automatically make any per-game statistic of mine go higher!

I'm the one who gets everyone career years. Like Steve Nash.

But they don't want to get that; no one wants to print that. Instead, they call me a "cancer" to every team I play for. If I'm a "cancer," why when I leave do these teams sink to the bottom of the league? Why once I left the 49's did they become the worst team in the NFL?

Uh, John York? Terry Donahue? Dennis Erickson?

Why last year did Philly not even make the playoffs? And watch what happens to the Eagles this year. They're going to be worse.

But still I'm the cancer. Whatever. All that's about to change. Everything. Jus' watch.

Wait. Where's my earring? That's $40g. Can't lose that.

Oh my God! Scoop has totally got this stream-of-consciousness thing down! And not a moment too soon!

Ha. It's funny didn't no one catch on.

Double negatives make Terrell look smarterer!

Drew was right. Same thing as last year. I got the entire country's attention to jump-start the season. These fools don't learn. If they was smart, they would have peeped this from the very start, last week. The minute the book came out, the minute "Real Sports" dropped, the minute the SI joint hit the stands. They should have looked at the correlation of the dates, the timing, and realized how we had this planned.

We even got Scoop Jackson to give us an unjustified verbal blowjob!

Not even coach Parcells said anything. Damn, I hope it's this easy the rest of the season.

USA Today on Friday printed the top nine questions about the NFL coming into the season. Guess who was No. 1? They can call me whatever they want, but I'm a marketing genius.

That's true, especially considering TO's book didn't even crack the Top 100 on its debut! That's branding savvy!

And Drew is only one step behind me. Art Shell is back coaching the Raiders with Randy Moss; Daunte Culpepper is in Miami and maybe fighting for his job against Joey Harrington; Herm Edwards goes to coach the Chiefs; Edge leaves Nap; McNair goes to Baltimore; Vinatieri leaves New England... and I'm still the No. 1 question coming into the season...

For USA Today, the newspaper of choice for remedial reading students all over this great nation!

And they say I'm crazy, stupid, ignorant and dumb. Selfish, conceited, self-absorbed. They say I'm worse than Barry and Kobe combined. They say the world hates me.

Not as much as it hates Scoop Jackson.

Cool. I will shed no more tears over this, miss no more sleep. Not for them. Not for no one. Not anymore. There will be no "new" Terrell Owens, just refined. Refocused. I'm just trying to make everyone understand that it's them, not me. Never has been me. I'm innocent of everything, done nothing wrong, wronged nobody. I'm not who they think I am, who they've made me out to be. I'm just misunderstood.

All I wanted to do was set black people back 75 years. Only Scoop seems to understand my goal!

Wait. Look at those tents. It's time. Time to go. Time to be T.O. Day 1. Ready for some football. Salvage.

You see how Scoop ties it all together by repeating that "salvage" sentence? That lets you relive the whole nightmare that is this column over again! Hooray!

I'm gonna make them love me, like I do. That's what I'ma do, dude. I'm gonna make 'em all love me.

Well, this column has already made your goal a lot more difficult, then.

NOTE: There is about a 1% chance that this column was actually intended as ironic criticism towards TO. But I think we all know that's a stretch, don't we?

Hey, 6-10 Was Good Enough for Second in the NFC West

Welcome to another installment of Better Know a Football Team. Today: the St. Louis Rams

2005 recap: 6-10, HIGH-larious. Ah, 2005, the swan song for Mike Martz as a head coach. For anyone who’s forgotten, Martz had to go on medical leave last year due to having a baboon’s heart. He was replaced by his assistant Joe Vitt, who was the only person on an NFL coaching staff who looked like less of a coach than Martz. While Martz recovered in San Diego, he tried to phone in a few plays during a game, to which team president Jay Zygmunt vehemently objected. For, you know, the good of Martz's health, I'm sure. Eventually Martz got better and he was all, “Okay, I’m ready to coach again,” and the team was like, “Why don’t you just take it easy there for a while, Champ?”

Also to be cherished from the Rams’ 2005 season was the performance of rookie third-string quarterback Ryan Fitzpatrick. Remember him? He came in for an injured Rams starter – whatshisface, you know, the guy whose name sounds like a NASCAR driver’s? – who was starting in place of injured starter Marc Bulger. Fitzpatrick, a mid-game replacement, threw for 300 yards and the winning TD in overtime to lead a thrilling comeback against the mighty Houston Texans. For the next week, NFL talking heads crowded around Fitzpatrick on their knees, mouths agape like a baby bird’s. Ryan Fitzpatrick graduated from Harvard! He proposed to his girlfriend at McDonald’s! And he went to Harvard! And he likes McDonald’s! Mercifully, Fitzpatrick fired a stream of liquid diarrhea all over the bed that ESPN and FOX had so nicely made for him, throwing just one touchdown and seven interceptions in his next three starts before returning to his rightful place on the bench, where he was free to daydream about rowing on the Charles and discussing Kierkegaard with that Asian girl who dropped out of pre-med.

Potential for comedy in 2006:
Declining, but still good. The loss of Mike Martz (to the Lions, who are now the comedically deepest team in the league) was a huge blow to anyone who liked laughing at the Rams. New coach Scott Linehan may turn out to be competent, and new defensive coordinator Jim Haslett -- very funny as a head coach -- might actually turn around a defense that was almost as sturdy as Marshall Faulk's knee.

Like Faulk, The Greatest Show on Turf has gone the way of vaudeville. With Isaac Bruce now collecting Social Security checks and an entire generation of quarterbacks left lame and brittle by Mike Martz's offensive "genius," the new Rams offense is getting re-built around running back Steven Jackson. In fact, the Rams used two of their first three picks in the draft on tight ends, which should open some holes for Jackson the same way fullback Madison Hedgecock (pictured above) did in 2005.

Ha, Madison Hedgecock. That's just his "Ram" name. Anybody can get a Ram name. You just take the last stripper you got a lap dance from, and pair her name with a male porn star's last name. What, you think tight end Dominique Byrd was born with that name? Anyway, when the Rams announce that their starting offensive line will be Houston Strongbone, Aspen Mandingo, Montana Longblast, Dakota Bonecock, and Vagina Cumshooter... well, just remember you heard it here first.

What to expect in 2006: Hedgecock will get into a locker room fight with center Richie Incognito over who has the faker-sounding name. Pisa Tinoisamoa and Oshiomogho Atogwe will have to intervene.

Tuesday, July 25, 2006

KC Are You With Me?

Welcome to another edition of our 32-part series, Better Know a Football Team.

The Kansas City Chiefs are not funny in the traditional sense. On paper they seem to be exciting, unfortunately their players have all the personality of a slice of bread. Their best bet to ensure hilarity this year would be to revert back to an old logo.

Since this scenario is becoming less likely by the day we'll just have to play the cards we're dealt for now.

If you are a fan of weepy press conferences, sentimental postgame speeches, or general incontinence you were probably heartbroken by the retirement of Dick Vermeil. The Kansas City Chiefs will now continue their push to remain permanently mediocre with the perfect man for the job. On his way out the old Dick made sure to lay the groundwork for his top assistant Al Saunders to take his place. Naturally management gave Dick a farewell "Fuck You" by letting Saunders head to Washington (thank you!). While Dick couldn't have been thrilled with the decision he was appeased when they hired his buddy (and former Chiefs assistant) Herman Edwards. Herm was thrilled to be granted leave from the trainwreck he left back at the Meadowlands, now he's got a whole new gang of players on which he can instill his ultimate wisdom. (Did You Know...Herman's Head was originally set to star the fiery coach, unfortunately the network deemed his inner thoughts too "disturbing" for a national television audience)

The ever reliable Trent Green returns as the team's signal caller and the most underrated fantasy football player of all time (this could be partially attributed to his standing as the least interesting pro athlete of all time). Although Friar Holmes likely won't factor into the team's offensive arsenal they appear no worse for the wear. Once Larry Johnson was inserted into the lineup he ran through the opposition with a reckless abandon that I haven't seen since Jimmy Dix. Even without the stalwart blocking of the recently departed Tony Richardson, LJ figures to be amongst the most productive runners in the League. Given the ridiculous strength of the Chief's offensive line he could probably hit 2,000 yards while wearing the Oops, I Crapped My Pants he got in college.

As always Tony Gonzalez will be the featured aspect of the Chief's passing game. Despite appearing more formulaic than your average sports movie, their offense is consistently amongst the most dominating in the League. The only tougher assignment than game-planning for the Chiefs is trying to determine Tony Gonzalez's ethnicity (Wiki lists them as African American, Jamaican, Indian, and Cape Veridian...so he's not Hispanic??). Since the wide receiver crop is about as interesting and useful as ESPN8's coverage of amateur curling (Effin' A Cotton, Effin' A!), we'll just keep this thing trudging along.

The success of the offense has further illuminated the need for improvement within the weak defensive unit. For once the front office has made a concerted effort to address their glaring personnel needs. Without question the biggest addition of the offseason has been Ty Man Law. While playing for Coach Herm last season he was able to amass ten interceptions thanks to his perceived weakness among opposing teams. With the combination of Law and Patrick Surtain they'll be partially immune from the weekly Oz-style rapings they've used to taking from the rest of the division.

Given last year's ten-win season, and the improvements to the defense, folks in Kansas City (I'm assuming they say things like "folks") have plenty of reasons for optimism. With a little bit of luck this team should compete for a playoff berth in the intensely competitive AFC West. HOWEVAH! they are coached by the Herm the Disapointer so an 8-8 finish isn't just possible, it's almost guaranteed (the 'Sheed kind not the Namath kind).

Monday, July 24, 2006

Better Know A Team: Detroit Lions


Five Fast Facts about the Lions:
-NFL tradition holds that the Lions play every Thanksgiving Day, and that they have at least 8 losses by that time.
-Team President Matt Millen commutes to work from his house in Pennsylvania, a house he has burned down three times while attempting to make Toaster Strudel.
-Last year, receiver Mike Williams was the first rookie in team history to bring donuts to every team meeting without having to be asked.
-Rookie linebacker Ernie Sims played at Florida State for head coach Bobby Bowden, who was the main inspiration behind the character of Shelley Marcone from "The Last Boy Scout". ("Why, she was one of the sweetest little whores I ever tasted!")
-Last year, the Lions were quarterbacked by the two-headed monster of Jeff Garcia and Joey Harrington. This year, they'll be quarterbacked by the two-headed monster of Jon Kitna and Josh McCown. Next year, the team plans on using seven-headed monster Tiamat, who has no NFL experience (or arms, for that matter), but can spit boiling hot acid at would-be defenders with her copper dragon head. Defenses are urged to use their vorpal swords against Tiamat if they wish to slay her and take all her precious, precious gold pieces. For more information, defensive coordinators are urged to consult the Fiend Folio.

10 Yards of Awkwardness with: Damien Woody

As part of our 2006 preview, I'll be sitting down and "chatting" with a player from each team. For the Lions, it's starting offensive guard and Patriot, uh, expatriate Damien Woody.


Big Daddy Drew: Damien, thanks for sitting down with us.
Damien Woody: My pleasure.

Drew: You occasionally play center. Joey Harrington, your quarterback last year, was a classically trained pianist. Did he ever refer to QB-center exchanges with you as "tickling the ebonies"?
Woody: No.

Drew: Last year, many Lions fans demanded that Matt Millen be fired. In retrospect, wouldn't it have been easier to simply murder him, in cold blood?
Woody: No. That's terrible.

Drew: I know it is. But what if, like, if you had gotten one of those plastic guns, like the kind John Malkovich had in "In The Line Of Fire"? You ever see that movie?
Woody: No.

Drew: It's fucking badass. You should rent it. Anyway, you get your hands on 50,000 of those puppies, which should be easy to do in Detroit, and you just let everyone in the stadium open fire on Millen's skybox. Wouldn't that have been preferable to subjecting loyal fans to another year of abject pain and misery?
Woody: No.

Drew: Your new coach, Rod Marinelli, has been called a "disciplinarian". But he's also Italian. What's it like to play for a walking oxymoron?
Woody: I don't know.

Drew: Is Steve Mariucci gay for Tom Izzo, or is Tom Izzo gay for Steve Mariucci?
Woody: I don't know.

Drew: They're both from the Upper Peninsula, you know. There's nothing up there except for trees, iron ore, and fat women. If you lived up there, wouldn't you fuck a guy just to get the clock moving forward?
Woody: No.

Drew: During the offseason, the Lions hired Mike Martz to be their offensive coordinator. How good are you at tackling?
Woody: I'm okay at it.

Drew: And what about holding pass blocks for 40 seconds or longer?
Woody: I'm a good pass blocker.

Drew: Fair enough. The Lions are owned by the Ford family. If the Lions were a car, would they be The Homer?
Woody: No.

Drew: You played college and pro football in Boston. You now play in Detroit. Which city secretly hates black people more?
Woody: I like both cities.

Drew: That's a smart answer. Very diplomatic. I'll just write down that you said, "Both cities secretly hate black people a lot," since we both know that's the correct answer.
Woody: I did not say that. And, if you say I said that, I'll deny it.

Drew: Again, very diplomatic of you. The suburban Michigan accent manages to combine the accent of a fat person from Chicago with that of a Long Island Jewess. How do you cope with such a grating, horrible sound?
Woody: I have no idea what you're talking about.

Drew: Let's move on to another topic. You play offensive line. Does it ever bother you when the o-line coach hops on the blocking sled and rides it around, like you're his personal goddamn rickshaw driver or something?
Woody: No.

Drew: Your first name, Damien, is also the name of the kid from "The Omen". Your last name, Woody, is slang for a man's erection. When you're ejaculating on a groupie's chest, do you tell her that you're "exorcising the demons"?
Woody: I'm married.

Drew: Quarterbacks often get their o-lineman gifts at the end of the season, as a reward for protecting them. What did your QB's get you last year, when you failed miserably at doing so? Some Post-Its? A box of Triscuits, perhaps?
Woody: We got watches.

Drew: That's very generous of them. You won two Super Bowls with the Patriots. What's it like to leave there and come to a place that gives you the freedom to do anything or go anywhere you please on the field? I'll bet it's pretty refreshing!
Woody: We have very detailed game plans here.

Drew: I'm sure you do. Let's go back to Matt Millen. Doesn't Matt Millen strike you as the kind of guy who would consistently fuck up a group lunch order? Like, you write down that you want a BLT, and he comes back with half an onion ring and a ball of twine?
Woody: No.

Drew: Do you secretly wish some other team hired Bill Maas, so that you could have someone else to talk to about playing for a team that's run by a blithering idiot?
Woody: No.

Drew: Would you consider kissing me?
Woody: No.

Drew: Come on. I've been on Acyclovir for three weeks now. If that's the reason for your hesitation, I can assure you the outbreak is totally under control.
Woody: No.

Drew: Okay, what if you pretended that I was a burrito? Would you consider opening me up, slathering me with sour cream, and having your way with me?
Woody: No.

Drew: Damien, thanks for taking time out from leaning against other heavy men to come chat with us.
Woody: No problem.

NOTE: It goes without saying that these interviews are completely fabricated. We all know that, right? Just making sure.

Freedom Grill

Welcome back to work everybody! Seriously though, it's Monday and I don't want to be here. Unfortunately there's been a lag in NFL player arrests/shootings/stabbings to distract us from the utter lack of excitement we've come to expect from the Dog Days of summer. Hopefully this inspired youtube video will brighten up your morning, hell, it could even cure your hangover for all I know. We now present you with an unusual sort of tribute, this guy has created a TITILLATING homage to his favorite tailgating appliance...the mighty grill. What really makes this video special is obviously not the grill itself, instead it's the ridiculous collection of cheerleaders interspersed throughout. Enjoy.

Friday, July 21, 2006

Let's Go For Two And Win It Right Now

Big plans. You have some big plans for this weekend. You’re gonna clean up the house. Do the dishes, bust out a load of laundry. Shit, you have so much fucking laundry, you could do a whole load of whites. That’s right, do ‘em on hot. Vacuum, maybe scrub the toilet. You are getting shit done this weekend.

Or you could just go through a twelve of Coors Light and sleep through Saturday. I mean, you know, that other stuff isn’t going anywhere.

Big plans. We leave you to your own devices with this little episode of…well, we don’t know what the hell this is. But we do have a cheerleader. And, we’d guess, one of her close personal friends. Is he promoting that Johnny Knoxville movie? There’s no way to be sure about that. But we are sure, absolutely sure, that the retard is singing “America, The Beautiful.” Won’t you sing along:



Fo’ boo-dee-full, fell-a-tious skies
Fo’ ham-per waves of grain
Fo’ pur-ple moun-tain ma-jes-ty
And on the bowl-ling lane

A-mer-ri-ca, A-mer-ri-ca,
God wet his face on me.
And round the hood with other food
Come see my shiny seed!


Big plans, I tell you. Big plans. See you Monday, if we're not already in Hell.

Thursday, July 20, 2006

Ask Mark Schlereth!

We avoid going into in-depth analysis of the NFL here. And that's as it should be. The only people truly qualified to comment on the NFL are former NFL players. They're the only ones who can give you complex opinions like, "Philip Rivers is the man now in San Diego," or, "In the NFL, you have to make that catch." You see how densely layered those statements are? Only a former NFL player could conceive of something like that. And only a former NFL player would have the guts to make such bold proclamations. Those are hardcore football opinions! Stay the fuck away if you can't handle them! Only Mankind shares this kind of testicular fortitude!

In fact, NFL players are the only people qualified to even watch the NFL. Did you play in the NFL? Okay, well then you can't possibly begin to understand what this game is all about. You little shit. You have no business watching it. Turn it off. This league belongs to the players, not to some two-bit civilian from the Male 18-49 demographic who has a great deal of disposable income to spend on malt beverages, automobiles, and financial planning services! You don't get the NFL, you commoner! In fact, you're not even allowed to think about it! So there! Run home and suck on your mommy's teat!

That's why we've asked a handful of your favorite NFL players turned studio analysts to come in and enlighten peasants like you about all matters pertaining to the National Football League. Today, we welcome in former Bronco, former Redskin, "NFL Live" co-host, and occasional "Mike & Mike" third wheel Mark Schlereth to take your questions.


Schlereth: Doy-uh, hello everybody! Doy-uh, my name is Mark Schlereth! Doy-uh, in my playing days they called me Stinky because I would play and then pee in my pants and it would stink and that is why they called me Stinky and that is so funny!

Frank, New York: Mark, do you think Eli Manning will duplicate the success he had in the first half of last season, or will he continue to regress?
Schlereth: Doy-uh, Eli Manning has to step it up this year!

Bill, Seattle: Mark, how will the loss of Steve Hutchinson and a fat new contract affect Shaun Alexander this year? Will he get complacent?
Schlereth: Doy-uh, all I know is that Shaun is the M-V-P! nobody can take that away from him unless they were to break into his house and steal it and then I guess they would be taking it away from him!

Jenny, Green Bay: Mark, if Brett Favre struggles again this year, do you think the Packers will finally replace him with Aaron Rodgers?
Schlereth: Doy-uh, Brett Favre is a legend! I know that many people say that Brett Favre is not a legend but if you look up "legend" in the big book of words it says a legend is "an inscription or a title on an object, such as a coin" and that to me is what Brett Favre is all about!

Mike, Pittsburgh: Mark, is Hines Ward a Top-10 fantasy receiver this year? I worry about age hindering his production.
Schlereth: Doy-uh, you better look out around Hines Ward because he will hit you in the mouth! although technically he cannot hit people in the mouth because they are wearing facemasks and so getting to the mouth can be tricky! but in the NFL we say guys will hit you in the mouth and even though it is not true and even if you could hit a guy in the mouth you would probably be penalized and bragging about hitting a guy in the mouth is even strangely gay! but he will hit you in that mouth and that's a "Coors Light Cold Hard Fact!" do you drink that stuff because I do sometimes and it makes me feel kind of silly and sometimes I end up strangling my dog!

Jason, KC: Mark, is there enough left in Trent Green's tank to take the pressure off of LJ in the backfield?
Schlereth: Doy-uh, I know Trent Green personally and not only is he a good QB but he is also a great husband and father and one time we went to the golf course with his friend Benji Compson and we hit little!

Ernie, Pittsburgh: Mark, with the Bus retired, will Fast Willie Parker and Duce Staley be good enough to keep the Steelers running game strong?
Schlereth: Doy-uh, you can say what you would like about Willie Parker but I will tell you one thing he is FAST! and in this league speed kills but not like real killing where a dagger stabs your brain open but I mean killing on the football field which means speed helps you beat the other team and makes them sad!

Jimmy, Oakland: Mark, the Raiders made an awful lot of changes in the offseason, and not many of them good. Does this team have any bright spots?
Schlereth: Doy-uh, Warren Sapp plays for the Raiders and I have heard of him! I have heard of him! he plays defense and when you play defense you must stop the run well you do not have to stop the run but it is better if you do because them teams cannot run and then they have to pass more but if they are good at passing then I can see them being very happy!

Mike, Washington: Mark, don't you find it odd that only NFL players and coaches are allowed to be TV analysts when the league's best coach didn't even play in the NFL himself? Shouldn't your credentials as a broadcaster be paramount above all else? Isn't it sort a joke that guys like you purport to be real NFL experts when you can't even really criticize players for fear that they'll get mad at you and that, in some twisted way, you'll be bruising your own ego?
Schlereth: Uh... uh... Doy-uh, did anyone see a little rabbit run by here? Doy-uh, which way did he go? Which way did he go?

Bugs, Albakoykee: He went thattaway.


Schlereth: Doy-uh, Gee! Thanks mister! Thanks a lot! Thanks a lot!

Bill, Memphis: Mark, is Eddie George a Hall of Famer?
Schlereth: Oh, I love him! I will hug him and squeeze him and call him George!

Tom, Minneapolis: Mark, will new Vikings coach Brad Childress employ a pass-first offense like his old boss, or do you think he's more willing to go to a ground-oriented attack?
Schlereth: Dah... I'm gonna have possum for dinner! I'm gonna have possum for dinner!

Peter King's Outlook Calendar

If you happen to speak English, you may realize that Peter King is the best NFL writer in the United States, and therefore, the world. In fact, his NFL prowess is so renowned that it has earned him an analyst's spot on the NFL Sunday Night Football studio team, premiering this fall. He is an Afroed god among mere mortal, straight-haired sportswriters.


So how does this elite journalist get into condition for the season? Certainly the work of covering 32 teams requires a strong preseason regimen. We like to know these things, so we here at KSK obtained a page of Peter King’s Outlook Calendar for an upcoming day, as many teams will already be in camp. While he sits on top of the mountain for now, to us it seems clear: Peter King is not ready for some football.




Don’t worry, Pete. That’s why they call it the preseason. Just keep your chin…up.

Wednesday, July 19, 2006

Jake the Snake and the Mile High Club

I've never been one to mince my words; with that said, I fucking hate the Denver Broncos. It's not necessarily the players that bother me, instead it is their fans that I detest with reckless abandon. To make matters worse they are coached by a loathsome miscreant whose smarmy confidence can no longer mask his playoff record since the Horse hung up the reigns. Despite all this it is their offensive line that I hate more than anyone else (outside the NFC East). Simply put they are the dirtiest sons of bitches I've seen on a football field since those guys busted up my man Lucas.

Truthfully I never had a chance; my first memory as a football fan dates back to a chilly January evening in 1988. On this day I watched as my Redskins went down an early ten points, then I watched Doug Williams and Joe Gibbs orchestrate the greatest quarter in the history of the game. Ever since that day I have looked down on the Broncos with such contempt that I've never cheered for them. In fact, I've never drafted a Denver player in any one of my fantasy leagues.

Everybody knows that the Broncos have enough talent on the roster to compete for the AFC title. Last year's run of thirteen wins (plus a playoff win) proved that point to anyone who still doubted them. This year their goals are clear, they have to reach the Super Bowl. It's not often you can say that about a team but in this case anything less would just be another disappointment.

Unfortunately for the Broncos, their hopes are still firmly attached to the arm (and brain) of Jake the Snake Plummer, frankly I'd rather see Jake Roberts taking the snaps. On the positive side the front office had the foresight to draft Jay Cutler who could be ready to supplant Plummer at a moment's notice. While they had the opportunity to draft a player who come in and start they recognized the need for a second option at quarterback. Cutler impressed everybody with his Combine and individual workouts, if the Broncos hope to bring a championship back to that shithole town young Mr. Cutler needs to learn that playbook. (Sources tell KSK that Mike Shanahan actually stole his current playbook from Madden 2003).

Those unfortunate bastards who have to corral Jake's wily passes are also a cause for concern at this point in the year. Ashley Lelie is apparently pissed off at the coaching staff for his roll on the team. Apparently he fully expected to supplant the the Unbreakable Rod Smith despite finding the endzone as rarely as Mr. Glass. As always Shanahan will rely on his running attack to carry the brunt of the offensive burden. A lot of people have attempted to dissect the famed scheme, one time Merrill Hodge got close before his neurons shutdown from fatigue, the same thing happened to me the last time I read the Four Quartets (seriously, what's up with that rose garden?).

As a service to our readers I'll break down the Broncos running game in three simple steps.

1. Tatum Bell (or some other scrub they plug in) starts his run off the right guard.

2. Matt Lepsis and Tom Nalen lay out a couple of defenders with a pair of violent chopblocks.

3. Tatum Bell cuts back to the left side and and skips over the broken leg of his would be pursuer.

(this can also be reversed with George Foster dislocating some poor guy's ankle, just press the R2 button on the play selection screen)

The team's true saving grace is their stout defensive unit that held the Steelers to a mere 34 points in the AFC Championship game (well at least they were stout the rest of the year). To be fair the defense did have a great season thanks to a flurry of acquisitions over the past few years. In fact last year Denver imported the sorry ass defensive line from the sorry ass Cleveland Browns...and they didn't suck!


Behind the freshly minted defensive front lies some of the fastest linebackers in the League. DJ Williams is an absolute freak that I'd love to see on my team (i've got a thing for those 7th Floor dwellers) and Ian Gold is routinely underrated. The crux of the defense's success will lie in the consistency of their secondary. Anybody who knows me knows how I feel about Champ Bailey, for those who don't, I think he was the most overrated player in the entire league when he was going to Hawaii in a Redskins helmet...nothing has changed. Domonique (yeah he spells it like that) Foxworth is serviceable on the other side, but the guy I'm interested in is his backup. I think it's about time the coaches started playing Karl "Bitch Betta" Paymah (I'd like to see Berman pull that off).

Without a doubt the player who offers the highest comedic appeal is our pal Sean Landeta. We here at KSK will continue to pray for Sean's fat ass and lovehandles.

Now I'm off to the NAACP Convention wearing my Kanye t-shirt that reads "George Bush doesn't care about black people."


Keep in mind today marks the opening of rookie camp for the Jets and Eagles...just in case you were wondering why you keep hearing boos in the distance.

Let 'em Know How We Do It Down In the C.O.

At this point, even DJ Hi-Tek is getting down on his boys from the 'Nati. The only people left in Ohio who aren't pissed about the Bengals' off-season transgressions are members of the Ohio State Bar Association. Type the team's name into Google (double true), and you'll find a police blotter that would put the Cowboys' crew to shame.

Atop the list you're likely to find their young, talented, and possibly lobotomized third receiver, a fitting ranking after finding himself in custody three times since the end of his team's season. At this rate they'll be renaming Interrogation Room B after this guy. Thus far his infractions have included possession of marijuana (apparently still illegal), concealment of and assault with a firearm, providing alcohol to jail bait, and the requisite DUI.

All of this since January? Are we sure he's not part of the Mexico clan? Seriously, the guy took his mugshot in his own damn jersey; apparently he was going for the "Tom DeLay" tactic. Despite his antics as of late I prefer "Classic Chris," like back in December of 2005 when Henry got pulled over and the cop found some West Virginia homegrown stashed in a shoe. Apparently that's the easiest way to procure skunky weed in the hills.

Most recently Odell Thurman, also a member of the memorable '05 draft class, has sufficiently contributed to his team's new rep. The Bengals recently learned that their impact middle linebacker will be wearing street clothes for the first quarter of the season thanks to a failed (or skipped) drug test.

According to John Clayton's more "analytical" overview of the situation in Cincy, it is Mike Brown & Co. who have been calling the shots in the player personnel department. This logic (like math without numbers) leads me to believe that Brown is a self-destructive personality... or he's just trying to stick it to that smiley black guy.

The Bengals, as if refusing to admit the follies of the previous draft, went ahead and selected Frostee Rucker. You know you're in trouble when you've got parents who were too high to think up a name without taking an ice cream break. He was subsequently arrested for smacking his woman like she was an Oregon State quarterback, although to be fair she did call him Mr. Softee after a mishap in bed. (Disclaimer: We here at KSK do not find spousal abuse funny in any form... except for Chuck Finley)

To compound their problems, the powers that be decided to use one of next year's draft picks on Ahmad Brooks in the Supplemental Draft. While Brooks was a standout on the field he was getting higher than a Bengal back in the dorms. After a few run-ins with the Man regarding marijuana (still illegal) he was booted off the team. Essentially the young middle linebacker with a drug suspension has been replaced by the young middle linebacker with a history of drug use.

All this means is that Chad Johnson is sitting quietly in the corner planning the perfect way to redirect everybody's attention to its rightful place.

Today's Joke Brought to You By Aquatic Mammals Wearing Football Helmets

Welcome to another installment of Better Know a Football Team. Today, the Miami Dolphins.

Hey, did you hear the one about the former All-Pro quarterback who got caught up in a team-wide sex scandal, then blew out his knee in a fashion that would make Barbaro wince? And then he demanded a long-term extension? Then got dealt to a team in a city that only fueled more speculation about his nightlife? Then allegedly flashed "the shocker" to 20,000 of his new city's fans? And that team then traded for one of the highest-profile draft busts in recent history to play back-up to the All-Pro? And they signed an undrafted gun-wielding sex offender to play third-string QB/wide receiver/odds-on favorite for jail time? And they invited a short-fused retired offensive lineman to try out as a tight end? And the team’s star running back got his 316th consecutive drug suspension and ended up in the Canadian Football League? And their All-Pro defensive end, driving near his home close to the team’s practice facility, got stabbed by a redneck road rager? Then his wife, the team's middle linebacker's sister, filed for divorce from him?

Yeah, I guess everyone’s heard that one by now.

For the Fins (or 'Phins, if you prefer abbreviation to anatomy), it has been an offseason of comedy that can only be called Shakespearean. The Winter's Tale was a story of the quarterback dilemma, when the early favorite to play savior, Drew Brees, chose instead to be a Saint,* tipping the dominoes that brought in Culpepper and Harrington. Is the team big enough for The Two Gentlemen of Florida? I have my reservations about Culpepper (to say nothing of Joey), but if Nick Saban can win nine games with "My Name is Better Suited for Ice Skating" Gus Frerotte, whatever fuss I happen to make about the quarterback situation will become Much Ado About Nothing.

And what of Ron Mexico Jr? Will Saban bring out his inner Petruchio and give us The Taming of the Shrew? Or will Vick's Midsummer Night's Dreams of violent crime create The Tempest that blows him out of town for good before he even sees The Twelfth Night of camp?

I, for one, would love to see The Comedy of Errors continue. But Dolphins fans should ignore the hype and my hopes, and remember that All's Well That Ends Well.

Hey, speaking of happy endings...


*If I remember correctly, Saban actually cooled on Brees and preferred Culpepper. But I'm not interested in your silly facts.

Tuesday, July 18, 2006

The 10 NFL Players Most Likely To Be Gay, Part II

You might think it's homophobic to taunt NFL players about their sexuality. And it is. But hey, I'm just taking my cues from the mainstream media (or the "MSM", if you happen to be a dipshit). Great writers like SI's Michael Silver, who last September told the world how Laveranues Coles' story of childhood abuse inspired him... inspired him to be the first writer to help an NFL player out himself. Wait, what? To wit:

It's the kind of story I wish I could have written, and it occurs to me that the profile I've long dreamed of penning is still there for the taking.

Someday, perhaps soon, an active NFL player is going to reveal to a reporter that he is gay -- and I want to be that journalist.


Congratulations, Michael! You've managed to be self-centered, creepy, and oddly homophobic all at once! It's the jackass trifecta! You've also given me further proof that the tribe of people I belong to (that would be tribe of People Who Are Socially Liberal But Aren't Complete Douches About It) is slowly becoming extinct. Way to go! What's the thought process going on here? "Wow, Laveranues Coles was abused as a child? That's so sad. Boy, I can't wait to scoop me some gay!" Sounds like a logical connection to me. So let's follow Mikey's lead and gay it on, with more NFLers who would happily be "amigos" with Eddie Dane and Mink LaRue:


6. Miniature Peyton Manning from Those Gatorade Ads
I fucking hate these ads. I don't know what focus group Gatorade's ad agency, Element 79, conducted to come up with this idea. But I would like that focus group facility burned to the ground immediately. If you're looking to sell lemonade with salt in it, it's not a wise strategy to take the world's blandest athletes and turn them into a bunch of 10-year-old douchebags. I knew kids like this in my neighborhood. They're the ones who made up a new wiffle ball rule every at-bat and shouted it out as loud as they possibly could. No one likes kids like this. Not even their asshole parents. In fact, if kids like this were gunned down Jonesboro-style, I'm pretty sure no one would notice.

By the way, I don't actually believe Peyton Manning is gay. I believe he masturbates to game film while shouting out dummy calls to his right hand. I also believe he calls his penis "Jeff Saturday". He's gridirosexual.


7. The Denver Broncos Offensive Line
Won't talk to the media, eh? I think we all know that people that refuse to talk to the media have something terribly, terribly wrong with them. Why, just look at Art Monk. Total freak, that guy. Who wouldn't like to talk to the media? They lead fascinating lives, these media people! They drink coffee in airports! They watch softball games! What's not to love?

Oh, and by the way: in case you gentlemen haven't noticed, you're offensive linemen. Unless you got the quarterback injured or you raped someone, reporters aren't exactly stepping over each other to talk to you. Anyway, it's pretty clear that Matty Lepsis, Ben Hamilton, Tom Nalen, Cooper Carlisle, and George Foster are all more Bear than Bronco. So I've devised a handy list for them of Things To Do In Denver When You're Gay:

-Gay skiing
-Gay snowboarding
-Gay hiking
-Gay mountain biking
-Gay kayaking
-Gay rappelling
-Gay rafting
-Karaoke night at the Beaver Creek Chalet

Have fun, boys! And keep it on the DL!


8. Kordell Stewart
Actually, since Kordell Stewart remains a free agent (Quick, GM's! Sign him before he gets away!), he really doesn't belong on this list. But Kordell reminds me of the only historic sporting event that I attended in person: the 1994 Michigan-Colorado game, which featured Kordell's stunning Hail Mary TD pass to Michael Westbrook. Two personal memories of mine from that game:

-I discovered I had a hernia during the third quarter of that game. I went to scratch my balls and stumbled upon some suspiciously low hanging fruit. I even coughed to verify it. I had surgery two weeks later. Every day really should be Saturday!

-After the game, on the way out, we passed by a group of ecstatic Colorado fans. Angry, I shouted to them, "You're all inbreds and you fuck your mothers!" I wasn't even drunk. Classy move on my part. And you thought Michael Silver had some solid douchebag credentials!

9. Ray Lewis
It's not just knives that Ray will stab you with! In addition to dancing the funky chicken before every game and waving around flags that he forgot to unfurl (If you saw last year's Viking game, you know what I'm talking about), Ray justifies his presence on this list by virtue of his passion for cake. Observe!



A sweet tooth is a gay tooth, my friend!


10. Leonard Little
Oh wait, I'm sorry. Leonard is supposed to be on my Negligent Murderers list. Sorry about that, Leonard. Boy, for a second, you thought you might be on the gay list! And, in the NFL, that's way worse!

Captain Caveman defends Peyton Manning's sexuality: Look people, he's not gay. He's pasty white, he lives in Indianapolis, and his gag reflex is extremely sensitive. You wanna know who's gay on that team? Marvin Harrison. Holy crap does that mustache have early-90s, short-shorts, AIDS-epidemic written all over it.

2006 Preview: Washington Redskins

Welcome to another installment of our ongoing series, Better Know a Football Team.

Epiphanies are mysterious things. They are moments of clarity that result in paradigm-shifting realizations, and that’s some pretty heavy shit. But you don’t have to be named Stephen Dadelus to have one, nor are they always accompanied by sunsets and choirs of angels. Nope, a person can have an epiphany while they are sitting on their ass watching TV. Take me (please, ladies. Take. Me. Anywhere.) This weekend I was on my couch, firmly ensconced in faux velvet, when the following occurred to me:

1 - That poster on my wall may be the reason I’m single
2 - No way those pills actually work . . . although that guy does look awfully confident.
3 - My job is my credit
4 - I don’t actually dislike the Redskins

Now, that last one shocked me. I went to college in a REDskin state and, for a guy from New York who didn’t like the Skins, being amongst their fans in the 1990’s was a glorious carnival of schadenfreude. Norv Turner. Gus Frerotte’s headbutt. The inevitable late season losses to the Cardinals. Those were the salad days.

But times change, grasshoppers. MNF is on ESPN instead of ABC, MTV doesn't play music anymore, and Al Roker is skinny. In short, it ain’t the 90’s anymore. It’s the 21st century and not only do the Skins look like they are on the verge of stopping traffic in suburban Virginia and Maryland so people in khaki pants can get out of their Volvos and sing Hail To The Redskins, there are things I actually like about them. Here are three:

1 - Joe Gibbs –In the movie about the old coach who returns to a league that may passed him by, Gibbs’ character last season went from Hume Cronyn to Wilford Brimley. And in a league where assistant coaches have become increasingly visible (and therefore more important? Not sure which came first), he’s got two pretty good ones.

2 - Clinton Portis – On the field, we all know the guy can play. But it is off the field where Clinton stole our hearts. His weekly press conferences were one of the few instances of plain, silly fun in the NATIONAL FOOTBALL LEAGUE in the last several years. I have no doubt that the powers that
be will ban them by the start of the season. In fact, Joe
Buck is already sorry they ever took place and thinks we are all worse off for having seen them.

3 - Dan Snyder – Short, rich, and apoplectic. He’s Kim Jong Il but without the nuclear capabilities.

Even if this wasn't enough for me to tune in this season, the fact is that this was a very good team last season that got better during the off-season. Despite a disappointing playoff loss which these guys did not take well, the Skins should be able to continue playing like they did during a an impressive run in the 2nd half of last season in which they seemed to gel as a team. They’ve got Portis, they’ve got Santana Moss, and now they have Antwaan Randle El. And despite the loss of amateur reality game show host LaVar Arrington, Gregg Williams’ defense still is going to be fine, with veterans like Marcus Washington and rookies like Rocky McIntosh and Anthony Montgomery.

If there is a question mark for the Skins, it is at QB, where Mark Brunell will continue his quest to prove he is not Patrick Ramsey, and where Jason Campbell will hold a clipboard better than a lot of other guys could. (But hey, if the Washington D.C. football team is looking for a quarterback to step in and save the day, I think I know the guy.) Despite the QB situation, though, the Skins seem to have fewer question marks than most NFC East teams - the Skins could run away with the division -T.O. could be T.O. and help destroy the Cowboys from the inside (and kill Parcells in the process), Eli could decide he's not ready yet, and McNabb could just implode (especially after a week one loss to Houston. Do not doubt me on that one). Or they could all have excellent seasons and the division race becomes a tight one. Either way, the Skins are probably a good bet to get out of their division.

So those are your 2006 Redskins: talented, and not entirely unlikable. I had asked Julie and Travis, close friends of mine and the two biggest Skins fans I know, to offer their predictions for the 2006 season. One is in the process of rebuilding South America. The other has probably hit on you at The Angry Inch. Both have enough dirt on me to keep me from ever running for public office. Anyway, neither got back to me in time with a response (we run a pretty tight ship here at KSK). So instead, a friendly reminder that right about the time the Skins wrap up a playoff spot would be a great time look into financing that new automobile, and when you do there's really only one place to go:


Monday, July 17, 2006

Strahan Tapes Sis-In-Law, Makes Directorial Debut

This is really just your typical love story. Boy meets girl. Boy loves girl. Girl catches boy videotaping her sister undressing. Girl drags boy through nasty divorce proceeding for $7 million.

So he was "taping" his future sister-in-law. Wait, isn't he supposed to be gay? I only hope it was a VHS tape, and not Beta, because that would just look bad. Anyway, Strahan had the camera hidden in an alarm clock in the guest room, where the "production" took place. According to the recent Post article, the tape was made two years BEFORE
they got married. I'm sure the tape is now an easter egg on the Strahan Wedding DVD, complete with director's commentary.

MICHAEL: Mmm, mmm. damn, she's looking so fine. I'm doing the wrong one.

TOM ARNOLD: Michael, I didn't know you were down with the white meat!

MICHAEL: You better get that finger outta my face!

TOM: You said! You said!

(scuffling overheard)

MICHAEL: AAAHHHH, MY SHOULDER! (beep) (beep) PUNK!



So what else came out at this trial? Jean Strahan can't seem to get the skeletons out of the closet fast enough. Those would include these titillating goodies such as:

Adultery, including taking "business trips" to tropical resorts with other women, the main business being to get some stinky on his hangdown. The Strahans had only twice had sex since the birth of their twin girls.

Beatings (yawn). I don't understand why the Players' Association hasn't already worked spousal beatings into the League's anti-trust agreement. I mean, the only people still surprised by these are the spouses.

Plastic Surgery...for him. Didn't help.

Alleged Gayness. Well, except for the "alleged" part.

Leaving the toilet seat up.

As it turns out, HE filed for the divorce, it was reported, in part because she "did not like rap music." You know shit is bad when other divorce lawyers are looking at this trial and saying, "Man, those bitches are crazy."

Also worth mentioning; she is 41, he is 34. He married seven years OLDER? This guy is the anti-Chris Henry, never had a prayer. Why wouldn't he go after someone with more of a new-wife smell? Couldn't he spring for a later model? Maybe an import? She doesn't have to be 20, but she should at LEAST recognize Matchbox 20. Jeez, I hope that tape was of her YOUNGER sister.

So she already has $7m of his, and she's going after another $7m. That's just in his assets. Then he will owe her alimony, and then child support for his twin girls, expected to exceed $1m per year. This being asked from a man who may not be able to perform his craft after a few more years. The judge has already said that he will lose his house, and soon he will lose his family. If anything is to be learned from this tragedy, hopefully it will be this:

Michael Strahan is totally so super-flamingly gay it's not even funny.

"No Words... They Should've Sent a Poet"

Kissing Suzy Kolber's first post was June 28, 2006. In a way, it's sad that the site has been around for less than a month, and already we face the grim reality that nothing will ever surpass the majestic beauty of this clip.

Remember Bo Jackson? He played for the Royals when they were in the major leagues and stomped ass every week for the Raiders, and according to a Nike commercial I saw he also "knew" soccer, cycling, archery, and like 15 other sports. Then he got hip necrophilia or something and couldn't run over Brian Bosworth if The Boz were sleeping on the sidewalk in a puddle of his own vomit.

Thankfully we have YouTube, which brings us videos like this to remind us of Bo's historic -- and historically lost -- talent. I'm pretty sure this is from that famous Monday Night Football game against the Seahawks in the Kingdome:



Our deepest gratitude to GorillaMask, where we saw this first.

Friday, July 14, 2006

Stop Reading The Credits Before The Fucking Game Ends

You made it! You got through another week at work, blew off a ton of shit you were supposed to do while reading our site, and you didn't get fired! Good job...unless you got caught and, um, did get fired, in which case, hey, you now have hordes of time for some much needed Alt-Tab practice.

As always, we're working on stuff for next week. Falco will be previewing the Piss-ants of the Potomac, YOUR Washington Redskins. We'll see what Michael Strahan has had his eyes on lately, and maybe we'll have ourselves a gander at Peter King's Outlook Calendar.

We leave you this week with this shot from a Maxim NFL cheerleader photo-thinger done in 2003, in homage and eager anticipation of Falco's upcoming Redskins preview. Guys, meet Christy, she's loving and energetic and looking for a good home. We think she's had all her shots, but we're bad at looking for that kind of thing. Damn!


While I'm no expert, I do believe she is ready for some football. So are we; fucking season, START ALREADY!

That's it for us. Enjoy your weekend. When you show up to work on Monday all depressed and shit, we'll be here.

Panning for Comedy Gold with the 49ers

Welcome to the latest in our 32 part series, Better Know a Football Team.

2005 recap: 4-12, strangely unfunny despite sucking. A shame, really. In 2005 the 49ers were the rare team where the players fought hard for a very good coach but still lost week in and week out because the players were so eminently shitty. There’s no humor in that. Kissing Suzy Kolber’s favorite bad teams to laugh at are the ones that are poorly coached and underachieve... the ones that implode due to prima donna stars ruining chemistry... the ones that are run by Matt Millen.

There was one comedic highlight for the Niners last year: the Reggie Bowl, the Week 17 showdown with Houston where two fan bases were united in their desire for the opposing team to win. Of course, the Texans won the Reggie Bush Sweepstakes by losing the game, then promptly fucked that up by picking Mario Freaking Williams.


A just God would have delivered Bush to the Niners when he fell to #2... except that by winning their final game of the season, the 49ers were rewarded with the #6 pick. That's just sad and unfair. Well, and funny, too. But it's the kind of funny that I feel bad laughing about -- kind of like when I watch this.

Potential for comedy in 2006: Fair. The 49ers picked up Maryland tight end Vernon Davis with that #6 pick and had one of the better drafts in the league, so they’ll be young and improving under a good coach. But I don’t even know who their starting quarterback is, so they obviously won’t be that much better. I mean, I seriously don’t know, and I don’t care enough to look it up. Tim Rattay? That second-year guy, Alex Somebody? Fat Joe Montana? He could come straight from the set of his FedEx commercial.

A brief sidebar: Davis — or, as I have cleverly nicknamed him, "VD" — was called a "freak" by almost all draft pundits for his weight room feats and blazing speed, and I take offense to the liberal use of that term. Freak has two meanings and two meanings only. Before you enter high school, the word is reserved for the kid that has an extra finger, a birthmark on his face, or a lazy eye. Upon entry into high school until the end of one’s life, a freak is a woman who’s crazy in bed (high school is also the appropriate time to use "freak" as a verb). Period. When I hear Mel Kiper talk about Vernon Davis, I don’t want to picture Davis’s face coupled with Rick James’s sparkly hair from the "Superfreak" video--Gah! I just pictured it again.

Okay, back to hard-hitting analysis. The highlight of the season for third-party observers will almost certainly be the Week 5 grudge match with the Raiders. The most successful franchise in NFL history from the gayest city in America, a hard-playing young team under a great young coach versus the gay city’s dirty, angry, illegitimate younger brother, the team of (fired) Norv Turner and Randy Moss and Al Davis, a franchise whose fans look like GWAR fanatics. I’m guessing it will look like this.

What to expect in 2006:
Who cares, as long as they lose to the Seahawks twice.